Subconscious Rejection?
by Alima8314
Summary: Companion to :DEAREST ALPHONSE: Edward wrote a letter to himself regarding his feelings for his younger brother. This is the letter Mustang  gets to read. Implied Elricest. Ed POV. Any errors contained within belong to Edward. Please, R&R!


**Subconscious Rejection?  
**(A companion piece to "_**Dearest Alphonse**_")

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA or CATS.

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**A/N:** I'm not sure if they have Mother's Day in Amestris, but I do know they don't have Valentine's Day or Christmas (as Arakawa-sensei said so in a comic interview (FAQs) at the end of Volume 12)... But, it works here... I guess...  
Also, any grammatical errors and redundancies belong to Edward, since he is writing this in the middle of the night.

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I think I might be in love with...

Right now it's about midnight, and I'm sitting in the colonel's dining room, writing this. I just woke up from a _very_ vivid dream about my brother. A very... sexual dream. I left the apartment Al and I share the night before last. If I didn't, I would have done something terrible. I think I might have given in to these feelings and then I might have taken advantage of my sleeping brother. I think I may have ended up raping him if I didn't leave right away. Al deserves a better brother than me. Or, perhaps, Al is too good for me and I don't deserve him.

I have a sleepy memory.

The colonel had given me a couple tickets to some play. He said he wasn't able to go because some business came up and because he said his date couldn't go anyway. Whatever. He said I might enjoy it, but if not, it would broaden my horizons.

Al definitely liked it. It had cats in it. In fact, that's the name of the play: CATS. It was supposed to be a look at the world through a cat's eyes. The colonel never told me it was a musical. But, Al said musicals are plays, too. Or, plays can be musicals... Something like that.

It was _**boring**_ Seriously, b.o.r.i.n.g.

I guess I went because it made Al happy. And making sure Al is happy has become my new life's mission. Of course the happiest moment of both our lives was when I was finally able to restore him to his body.

Anyway, since this is a fuzzy memory, and I'm writing things as they come to me, so I might get some things wrong.

It was pretty late that night, the 'play' didn't start until 8 o'clock. All the singing had given me a headache and I began to nod off. The play was SO boring! At least Al had a good time. We were sitting on a couch in a private balcony (the colonel had given me good tickets. What _**was**_ he planning to do with his own date, anyway?)

And I started getting sleepy, and I guess my brother noticed, because he pulled me over and laid my head in his lap. Perhaps I'm so anti-touch that, even in my sleep, I was aware of what happened. I woke up almost immediately and sat up. This all happened about a month ago.

I wonder if he remembers...?

Before that, maybe a month before, we were at the library and I had asked Al to pass me a book. I know I asked quite clearly, but when I held out my hand for the book, he grabbed my hand instead and kissed the back of it. I'm not sure why he did it. I guess he felt like being cute and spontaneous. I mean he hadn't been in his body very long then, maybe a couple weeks... anyway, when I asked him why, he just blushed a little and said he thought it was what I wanted. But I had asked VERY clearly for something completely different.

Luckily, the library was empty and no one else saw.

Still, I wonder why... and again, I wonder if he remembers?

He's always the one to initiate, only to dance away. Is he just testing his body, having not used it for so long? He leaves me confused, wanting more, yet fearing that desire. He is my younger brother and my best friend. But to be totally honest with myself, lately I've been thinking about him as much more...

The night at the play, I remember I was sitting to his right. And I remember his hands on my neck and shoulder, gently pulling me down.

Normally, I can talk to him about anything. ANYTHING. And I really do want to talk to him about this, but... I don't want him to hate me because of this. I don't want to hurt him, not do I want to get hurt in return.

We've been through so much together that sometimes I feel nothing will ever be able to tear us apart.

The other night, Colonel Mustang had taken us out to a restaurant. I forget why, but I remember that the food was pretty good. Anyway, Al and I were just being ourselves, eating from each other's plates and drinking from each other's cups. The waiters kept watching us and acting weird about it, but the colonel didn't notice. I guess he's used to us being us. He's known us since forever. Well, since I was eleven, but, you know what I mean... Wait, who am I talking to? This letter isn't for anyone to read...

Al doesn't have a problem (at least, not that I have noticed) with his body. I think it's perfect! But that may just be me. Flesh is much better and much more comfortable than the metal shell I encased his soul in for so long. I have a problem with my body, though... The scars... and the automail... and... my... my... height...

BUT! I HAVE grown a little bit since restoring Al. The growing pains hurt, but they're worth it.

I treasure Al as my brother and I never want to lose him as a friend. However, there was a time when we weren't talking to each other. It was over Winry. We were both attracted to her. But I guess she was just convenient, since we've both known her all our lives. We don't know, and probably never will know, whom she would have chosen between us. She said she just couldn't choose, that she didn't want to come between us. The three of us are still very good friends, almost as if our confessions never happened. He says he doesn't remember the time when we were fighting, and he gets... Weird? ...Sad? ...Awkward? Whenever I bring it up.

Hmmm... This started out as a random memory, and see now where it has gone. This has become a real soul-searching letter to myself.

Sleepy... Sleepy...

He's not cute! He's not sexy! He's just... him... He's my best friend.

I'm not so 'anti-touch' as I like to portray myself. I love to touch and be touched. Especially by Alphonse. I think this may also be due to the fact that we're both still astounded by his flesh body. We need to keep assuring ourselves that it's real. But, I like to touch. A lot. Too much. I don't care about sex. It's pretty low on my priority list. I just want to hold and be hld. I'm very cuddly, but the outside world will never know this about me. I would just die before I let anyone other than Al know that. I don't touch people for a reason, and I don't let them touch me... How sad. But I'm also afraid that someone will discover the automail, and then the reasons I got these false limbs.

I guess I'm able to write things I'll never say out loud. I wish I had the courage to ask "why?"

I'm so abrasive. But keeping people at arms length is one way to assure they don't hurt me and I don't hurt them.

I need to know why.

Playful.

Sudden.

Unsure.

Gone.

Why?

Brief.

Forgotten.

More?

No.

Oh, I see.

I'm not horny, I'm just lonely.

Sleepy.

I think I need a hug. No, I want a hug. And... maybe more... I'm not sure yet. I'm not sure what I want. I just want to get it out of my system and remind myself of the pain. I want the pain. The pin makes it easier to say 'no.' and say 'no' I will, until the day I find that special person. Someone just for me.

We've been together for as long as we've been alive.

When I think about these feelings, my stomach flips (butterflies?) And I get dizzy and a weird kind of nauseous. I begin to lose the feeling in my foot and hand. I get dizzy and I can't breathe. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he's curious, like I am? I also wonder... what if I were a girl, or if he were a girl? Would we still be the same as we are now? But, if one of us WAS a girl, that would be really disgusting. I mean, at least two guys can't make a baby... But, it's still incest, isn't it? I'm just over a year older than him, and we have the same parents. We could almost be the same person! Could this be a form of narcissism?

Hmmm... what would it be like if I WERE a girl? Would I still like the things I like now, as a guy? Would it be easier? Harder?

Was it just a dream? What I DO remember, I remember clearly. Does he remember the things he's done? Has he noticed how I react?

Not remembering things is a great way to protect oneself from harm. I've blocked some memories, but I don't know if Al has. Memories are not always kind. Not in my case. Not right now. I'm only working with half a memory at the moment.

I wonder... does the colonel know? He is a rather intelligent man, and he would be the kind of person to notice something like this. Is that why he gave me the tickets to that crappy play? He did have a pretty lame excuse when he handed them over. Something about his date canceling on him because of some family emergency.

I just remembered something else! One day, a couple months ago, Havoc asked a bunch of us to play strip poker. **STRIP POKER!** Al agreed after a moment, then asked me to play too.

I don't think so.

Even though I know (and yes, trust) these people, I'm not about to take my clothes off in front of them. These people know about my body, but still... I'm just not comfortable about stripping in front of people I have to work with on a daily basis. But somehow, the adults play all the time (not necessarily strip poker, but card games and stuff) and can still be professional during business hours... I mean, even Lieutenant Hawkeye (_Hawkeye?_) agreed to play, but she said it would have to wait until after hours. Who knew that the stern lieutenant had such a different side to her? I would never have imagined it.

And of course, to be honest, I _REALLY_ don't want to see Major Armstrong without his shirt. Not that he needs much prompting to remove his shirt, anyway. _**YUCK!**_

Al kept asking, and I kept declining until he finally dropped the subject. In the end, Al and I didn't play. Al was upset. Oh well. Too bad.

Breda and Havoc teased me about being chicken, but I told them to shut up in a rather rude way with my armblade.

I _AM __**NOT**_ taking my clothes off in front of anyone (except Al, but we've seen each other naked _so_ many times throughout our lives, it doesn't even matter anymore). But around people, I have a problem with my nudity... because of the automail...

Every so often, he'll just stare at me with this weird look on his face, like he's trying to figure out a problem. It's not necessarily a bad look, just a look. Sometimes I catch myself looking back.

I don't know what to call this feeling, so I'll do my best to keep a lid on it and ignore it.

Why?

Tonight I had a dream and I remembered... something... Phantom caresses. Not so soft. Were they real? Were they the product of my fevered imagination? I woke up from that dream and came into the dining to think.

Why?

Only at night. Touch.

In the dark. Touch.

Please?

No.

I wouldn't know what to do anyway. I couldn't...

I have a special kind of alchemy: everything I touch turns to shit.

Why?

Just look at what I've already done! What I did to him can never be forgiven,

No matter how many time he's told me he has.

It's funny, I'm really writing this for someone who will never have the chance to read it. And here I thought I was just writing out my thoughts to sort this stuff out.

Why?

Always, why?

I want it. I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of the pain. Mutual pain. I don't want to... He always makes the moves. Spiraling in, close enough to touch, only to spin away.

My brother, the comet.

No. And yes... A comet suits his well. But he is also the sun in my eyes. The last time I got too close to the sun, I lost some limbs and Al lost his body.

What would happen if I flew too close again? What would happen if I got too close to Al, my sun? Which of us would get burned worse?

So sleepy... I guess I should be. I just looked at the clock. It's 1 o'clock in the morning.

I want...

He helps me with my hair when I ask him to. I wonder if he likes to play with my hair.

I'm being such a chicken. I wonder. I wonder. Strip poker? No. I'm so fickle.

Fickle?

More?

No.

Please?

No.

Oh.

Eating off each other's plates. Drinking from each other's cups.

Why am I so confused? Why does he act like that? Why do I respond? Is he... convenient for me? What an awful thought.

Little things (not me). Golden things. Little things (it's not me!) It's the little things that get you. It's the little things that matter. When you weren't paying attention.

Attention?

Sometimes, I can't help but look...

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Even though I'm underage, I want to get drunk so bad. I want to drink myself stupid so I can pass out and not be bothered with what I feel right now. I want to get drunk so I can't be held directly responsible for my actions, and ask him. I'm such a coward. I know. I'll get both Al and myself drunk, that way we both have an excuse. But... Al's underage too... But it would give him an out, too... what's wrong with me? Alcohol is REALLY gross anyway.

And to think, that all started as a random memory. A very FUZZY random memory.

I just remembered something else! Mother's Day of last year. We had been at Teacher's place, visiting. She had been sick again and didn't feel like cooking.

Al and I. Communication without words. Then, words that should never have been spoken:

"Al, do you want to?"

"Yes, Brother, I do. I will have sex with you." This last part was whispered as he leaned in. I could feel his breath on my lips and smell what we had for lunch that day... Carbonara pasta...

Anyway, where the hell had THAT come from? All I was asking was if he wanted to help me kidnap Teacher for Mother's Day. We had talked about it earlier, but he hadn't given me an answer yet. We ended up taking her to a nice Xingese restaurant. It was a bit pricey, but she's worth it. After all, she IS like a... an aunt... or, yes... she is even like... like a mom... to us...  
But, she'll never replace our mother. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Teacher.

Why? Why would he say that? I don't understand. I just want to know why!

And the way he looked at me, directly in the eyes, as he said it. There was no hint of tease or anger... or anything. Just deadpan. Was he mocking me? I wasn't even attracted to him then, not like I am now. Was that the beginning of my attraction? Am I really attracted to him?

I think Teacher probably heard him, because she cleared her throat that way people do when they hear or see something awkward.

I think I may have blushed.

Really? No. No! No! But... he looked me in the eyes... And... he didn't blush... NO!

I'm shaking, but this may be due to the lack of sleep I'm suffering from.

I'm lonely.

Please? No. No. No. No!

Why? It hurts. I always expected Al to fall for some random cute girl that I would never approve of anyway. But that's what big brothers are for, right?

I've always loved Al, but he's my little brother, and the only family I have left. Our father doesn't count, because even though he's still alive, he abandoned us. And that's as good as dead to me.

I mean, I always loved him, because he is my brother. But never like this.

Even after everything I've done to him, like putting him in that armor for so long (he insisted on keeping the helmet after I restored him) he still trusts me. I wouldn't.

Am I truly worthy of his trust? Because of me, his life was a living hell. If you can call that living... It's not fair. I remained relatively unscathed while he lost everything.

After I restored him, his body was so... malnourished. Because of this, and because of the shame I felt in giving him back such an imperfect body, anytime he had to change clothes, I would offer to leave the room to give him some privacy. But, he'd sometimes stop me from leaving. Never forcibly, though. Usually he'll strip before I can get to the door, and so, I am then unable to leave.

He confuses me. He says one thing (and follows through most of the time) but (this is rare) he sometimes does another thing.

He refused to let me take him to the doctor after he was restored to his body. He said his body was in such bad condition that he was afraid I would get arrested for abusing him. He's filled out a lot since then.

I wouldn't know what to do anyway. No. No. No. No. No.

The place we stay at in Central is too small, and we share a room. Lately, I've been so embarrassed, that I've been changing in the bathroom.

I can't believe he wanted me to play strip poker! I just can't get my mind around it. He knows how I feel about that sort of thing. Did he think that, just because they already know why my body is the way it is, I would be okay with that? Why would he want to play anyway?

Random memory. That's all this was supposed to be. A collection of memories. I guess that's what it is... And all because I might be in love in my younger brother. Isn't that awful? Especially if (and this might be the case) he doesn't mean anything by it. He probably doesn't even realize what he's doing, since the majority of people flirt subconsciously anyway. I might be so starved that I'm taking whatever I can get. Even if it isn't real...

I want to somehow let him read this letter, but I'm afraid he'll hate me for feeling something that's most likely only in my head.

So, why would he do even half the things he does around me? Why does he say half the things he does? He's intelligent, so I'm sure he's aware of what he's doing, at least on some level. I wonder if he's noticed how I react lately.

. . . I've been writing for three hours now. Wow. I don't even put this much effort in the reports I write for the colonel... I think I should go back to bed soon. It's a little after 2 o'clock in the morning.

This is a letter to the both of us, but I doubt I'll ever let Al read this...

So very tired... I think I'm repeating myself a lot... Oh well. I can't really remember what I wrote anyway. And, I'm too tired to reread this...

Everything I touch turns to shit. The 'Anti-Midas' touch.

I know I'm lonely, and I'm reaching out for attention. So, why Al?

It's the little things that get you when you weren't paying attention.

No. No. No! Please? No. Oh, but... NO!

Why? Why? Why? Do I really want it? I just want a hug. Maybe a kiss, but not on the mouth. I've never kissed anyone before, but I think that if I kissed Al, I wouldn't be able to stop there. I think I would continue until it's too late. The damage would be... irreparable.

A kiss. Jaw. Neck. Shoulder. His. Mine. Ours. Touch. Pain.

A long chat.

What's it feel like, I wonder?

Why do I feel this way? I don't like being confused like this. Help me. I'm lonely. I can admit it on paper, but never out loud. And only when I'm so tired, I might as well be drunk. I really don't think I would be able to pass a sobriety test right now.

I don't want to say it's love (and I think I have many times in this letter anyway...), but there's a definite feeling there.

I want to feel the pain and remind myself why I say 'no.'

What is there to do now, anyway? I've done everything I set out to do. And, I'm still in the military. But, I'm only in the military because it's really te only thing I know how to do, since I've been a State Alchemist since I was twelve. I really have no other job skills. No other way to support Al and myself. Lieutenant Hawkeye taught me how to do a budget. She said it's a good thing we don't have to travel or need to buy as many research materials anymore, because now that Al has his body back, our food budget increased. Taking care of a flesh Al is harder than I thought it would be. I had to go out and buy extra clothes and stuff for him. But he's worth it. I owe him so much for everything I put him through. He said just getting his body back was enough. Maybe it is, for him, but not for me.

Since we don't travel all the time anymore, I got Al a kitten. He was so cute. Yes, he. I was not putting up with a pregnant cat and MORE kittens. One cat is enough! He's an orange tabby. Marmalade, I think it's called... Anyway, I got the kitten mostly as a way to apologize to Al for his having to put up with me. But, it also works in reverse. Sometimes I have to put up with him. Every relationship, no matter what kind it is, has its rough spots, I guess. Unfortunately, a few months after we got the kitten, he ran away and we weren't able to find him. Poor Al... He was so heartbroken. But he agreed that it is was too much work to take care of the kitten, even though I could tell it was hard on him. But this is also how I found out I have a mild allergy to cats. Noting major, just scratchy eyes and a stuffy nose.

Both Al and I are fairly anti-social creatures, but Al is more social than I am. I may be around more people, more often, but he is far more tranquil and outgoing. He can make friends so easily, but he can be cold hearted when he needs to be. And I'm abrasive, and personally, I don't care who I piss off in order to get my way.

Was it a dream, that night at CATS? Did I only imagine his hands pulling me over as I was falling down naturally while I was dozing?

Does he remember? I don't want to bring it up. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. And he always does the things he does when I least expect it. Perhaps he enjoys shocking people as much as I sometimes do.

But, if I WERE a girl... what then? Is this letter only full of guilt? Are we just practicing on each other? Love is not an emotion to be ashamed of, but lust is. Is this love, or is this lust? I wish I could figure it out. Maybe that's why he looks like he's trying to solve a problem when I catch him looking at me... maybe he's just as confused as I am!

And maybe I'm just being stupid and he's trying to figure out why I stare at him. He must think I'm so weird.

Putting these thoughts down on paper is really helping me figure this out. And it's helping make these feelings ebb.

At least... for now.

Maybe I'm afraid this isn't really what I want, and that I'll only end up using him, and therefore hurting him (and myself) very badly. I'm afraid that once (if) I get what I think I want, I'll find out I was wrong all this time. And I'm afraid of betraying his trust in me and losing the best friend I ever had.

I'm so selfish like that.

But, that's the price of experimentation. You can't get without giving.

What am I willing to lose in order to get the answers I want?

It's now 3 o'clock in the morning, and I'm falling asleep as I write this. I'm surprised I can still read my handwriting right now.

I think I'll go back to bed now. But first, I have to hide this letter. I want to destroy it, but then, I'll lose everything I've gained in writing all this out. Because I know I'll never remember any of this tomorrow (today?).


End file.
